


The Harder the Rain, the Sweeter the Sun

by Makepeace



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Slow Burn-ish?, eve loves to monologue, niko is an ass, schrodinger's villanelle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makepeace/pseuds/Makepeace
Summary: Eve's grief is taking on a life of its own. How long will she have to miss Oksana?Set a few months after Paris, Villanelle is presumed dead and Eve is drowning in the pain of a loss she doesn't fully understand.*Formerly 'Sounds of Concession'





	1. Sound of Concession

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a oneshot, this first chapter has been reworked a bit and might be adjusted slightly in the future. I have no beta, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The crisp London air makes Eve’s body feel weighed down with remembering today. There’s just something about weather that takes you back to the last time you... anything.  

It’s her day off, thankfully. She doesn’t know that she could deal with the inane office chatter today. Her internal monologue has been running since she left work yesterday and there are no signs of it slowing down. A person can only handle so many voices at once.  A person can also only handle so much time in their own head, which is why she's now on her way home from the shop.

Coffee, she thinks. If she could just get a good cup of coffee, she’d be able to focus her mind. She holds onto that hope briefly before losing herself in her thoughts again and passing up her favorite café

She can’t help but realize the irony of her own desires lately. When she was with Niko, all she wanted was more excitement and danger. She wanted something to get her blood pumping.  When she thinks of Oksana? Well, she thinks how nice it might’ve been to fall asleep next to her knowing she was safer than she’d ever been. She thinks about how she might’ve liked to hold Oksana. Maybe Eve could’ve made her feel safe as well.  

What movies would they have watched together as they cuddled on the couch? 

Her train of thought comes to an abrupt stop before rerouting as she remembers the stickiness of Oksana’s blood on her hands. She knows from experience that she could feel it now if she focused hard enough. She could feel the way it would tug at her skin and roll into little balls if she rubbed her hands together.  

Eve feels remorse wash over her and nearly chokes from the rush of it barreling down her throat before it settles heavily in her stomach.  She thinks about the last time she saw her husband. She couldn't muster even a fraction of remorse when she told Niko she wanted a divorce.  

She let her mind replay the events yet again as she searched for any signs of regret. 

 

 

_Eve had hoped Niko would be in bed already, but he was sitting in the kitchen with the lights off save for the one above the stove. She could see that he was drinking something and she imagined that most other men would be swirling a glass of whiskey at a time like this, but she knew for certain that it was chamomile tea with "just a tad bit" of honey._   

__

_They both wondered what excuse she would come up with this time._  

__

_Eve had just turned to head upstairs when Niko spoke, “You’re hurting. You’re hurting and I don’t understand why. You won’t tell me and I feel like I’m not even allowed to ask.” He sounded exhausted in a way that should be reserved for Sunday morning hangovers or the flu. She could hear his tone cursing the headache she’d given him._  

__

_He sat sipping his tea while she tried to formulate a response_ _._  

__

_The silence stretched on as she searched for the right words. Decent words would have done, but what was there to say? She stabbed a Russian woman in her apartment in Paris? She Killed an assassin? That wasn’t the problem was it? It wasn’t why she was hurting._  

__

_It wasn’t why she hadn’t let Niko touch her in weeks. It wasn’t why she’d stopped coming home if she thought she would have to entertain his company. She’d just been so tired and overwhelmed by her own emotions. She spent most of her time thinking about how nice it might be to fall asleep and not have to wake up again._  

__

_All of these things she had been feeling to the point of exhaustion were starting to leave her numb; or raw, depending on the day. The problem was that she had stabbed Oksana. She had looked her in the eye and let her believe that she was there to share something beautiful with her and then she stabbed her. Eve was grieving for someone whose role in her life was undefinable. They were tied up in a game of cat and mouse from beginning to end, but Eve came out the cat and she fucking hates that people think she won._  

__

_She’d felt more equal to Oksana than that. She’d felt like they would both come out of this game together somehow. There had been more to Oksana. More to know and understand and to learn. There was so much she regretted about that day in Paris, but more than anything she regretted coming to the conclusion that she needed to hurt Villanelle. That regret was bigger than all of her other ones combined._  

__

_“Who is it? That has you hurting this way? Is there someone else?” Niko was looking at her now.  She could only imagine the emotions he’d found on her face before she noticed._  

__

_“I... I don’t know what to say.” She hoped her impatience was coming across as something else._  

__

_“Things haven’t quite been the same since you started chasing that psychopath.”_  

__

_“Don’t call her that!” Her response was too much of a knee-jerk reaction for her to keep her tone from being defensive._  

__

_Niko startled. “Are you bloody kidding me? Don’t call her that? Don’t call her that?! She is a psychopath, Eve! This little game you are playing... it’s not someone like you on the other end. An insane woman is on the other end and she can kill you whenever she wants. She’s sat in our kitchen if you remember correctly!”_  

__

_Eve could feel how far her face fell. She wondered if Oksana would have been able to kill her. She thinks not and it causes her guilt to fuel her tone when she speaks. “She can’t kill me, Niko.”_  

__

_“She can’t.” he chuckled. “Because she likes you too much?” The irony of that statement hit Eve with a particular brand of precision._  

__

_“Because she’s dead. Because I stabbed her.” She gave him a look that she hoped conveyed her need for him to not continue the conversation._  

__

_He didn’t. At least not for a few minutes._  

__

_He stood and paced around the kitchen. He stroked his mustache as he thought. Eve knew where this might be headed. Somewhere towards the truth. But hopefully he would be just far enough off that she would be able to downplay everything. Or at least not look so fucking heartbroken over someone who wasn’t her husband._  

__

_“You miss her.” He said it as if he’d just found the answer to the meaning of life. “You miss her. That’s why you always look two seconds away from a nervous breakdown. You fucking miss her! Jesus Christ, Eve!”_  

__

_Eve barely had time to react before the mug he had been holding smashed into the wall a few inches from her head. The sound rang in her ears but the two small drops of tea that landed near her eye made her feel small in that moment. She felt like she’d been marked by his rage._  

__

_Had he even been looking before he threw it? Did he intend to hit the wall or her? When she looked up and saw the rage barely hidden behind his eyes, she realized he’d fully intended to hit her. Maybe he wouldhave attempted to call it an accident. Maybe he would have said that he was aiming for the wall but had horrible aim. Now that he’d missed, he seemed content with her knowing his original intentions._  

__

_Suddenly, she was struck with a realization that caused her to laugh boisterously. Knowing that this was the exact opposite of the reaction he usually got when he would act like this only fueled her laughter more. She laughed as he fumed._  

__

_Eve finally managed to calm down just as he’d begun to storm the steps. “Don’t you want to know what’s funny?”_  

__

_He stopped nearly half way up but didn’t turn to look at her._  

__

_“Villanelle shot at me after I stabbed her. You see... we had been lying on her bed and just when she tried to kiss me, I pressed the tip of her own knife against her stomach. Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to get her attention. I didn’t want to stab her. Not really._ _I_ _just_ _didn’t know what else to do. She felt like such a challenge. She felt like something to rise to. So_ _,_ _when she told me I couldn’t stab her, I thought ‘watch me!’”_  

__

_He turned more towards her. Just enou_ _gh_ _to catch her in his periph_ _er_ _al and Eve took a step forward._  

__

_“But once I realized what I’d done, which was right when she said ‘I really liked you!’ I panicked. I panicked because I hadn’t meant to hurt her. I rushed to the kitchen to get something to apply pressure to the wound and she shot at me as I was coming back into the room. She missed, obviously. She hit the wall. She was looking when she fired though._ _”_  

 _Eve suddenly assumed a posture that felt more like Villanelle than herself. She squared her shoulders and pulled them back. She imagined herself to be as capable of violence as the woman she’d killed. She felt larger then. She could feel that piece of herself that Niko had been trying to stamp out suddenly rise to the surface of her skin. She was so sick of being made to feel small._  

_“Wounded or not, she was a trained assassin. You would imagine she would have amazing aim at say... 10 feet, right? And I was sort of just running into the room at the time. I also spoke to a man that I believe she may have loved like a father. She’d shot at him too. He laughed when he spoke about it and when I asked him what was funny, he said, "She's almost the best, you know. She is so good at killing. But her aim is shit when she isn't sincere. She has to mean it." Niko turned fully towards her with a sneer “What’s your point?”_   

__

_Her tone became affectionate as she continued, “I’d stabbed her. I’d stabbed her and she was a psychopathic assassin and she didn’t try to hurt me. She just left. She could have killed me. She could’ve waited for me to come back into the room to shoot. She could have been sure. Instead, she tried to keep me far enough away from her that she could leave without having to hurt me to do it. And here you are throwing another one of your tantrums. Throwing things and missing even though you are looking directly at me. Only you missed on accident.”_

____

__

_She stepped up onto the step beneath him and did her best to sound and look as fierce as she felt. “Thinking about it now. If Oksana knew how you treated me. If she’d seen that or even heard it from the other room, I think she would have killed you. I also think she might have asked permission. To be completely honest, I might have said yes.” She left him on the stairs looking somewhat afraid and trying to clear a lump from his throat._  

__

_Eve grabbed her bag and keys before opening the front door once more. “I want a fucking divorce.”_  

__

Niko didn’t move until several minutes after the door slammed.  

__

 

__

No, she didn’t regret that at all. She couldn’t find a single trace of any sign that she might miss him.  

__

But for Oksana, she cries regularly. Frustrated cries that she can’t make sense of or anticipate with any level of accuracy. They sneak up on her without warning and sit with her for days at a time. 

__

One morning at work Elena mentioned Villanelle’s death in passing and an abrupt sob ripped itself from Eve’s throat without her permission. She told them she was thinking about Bill. She’d felt sorry then as well. Sorry for being hit harder by the death of a psychopath than the death of a dear friend.   

__

It didn’t last long. It never does. Eventually she’s right back to wishing she’d kissed her when she had the chance.  

__

She was even able to laugh about the fact that she’d killed Villanelle once. After all, what are the odds that Eve Polastri would be the person to kill one of the most skilled assassins alive?  And simply because she was being emotionally impulsive? It’s laughable if you can find the right perspective. 

__

Then she remembered how Oksana gently laid the gun on the floor. She remembered how the roughed-up woman turned on her side and assured Eve that she knew enough to carry them both through Eve’s first time with a woman. She remembered how soft her eyes became as soon as she realized that Eve was there for Oksana and not Villanelle.  

__

Then she thought about how she said “You either” after telling Konstantin not to break her heart.  

__

Somehow, the fact that she betrayed Oksana in that way was what hurt the most.  She didn’t need to know Oksana’s life story to know she’d been betrayed before. She was sure that it was deep and scarring and probably gave Oksana a lot to be rageful about. She also didn’t need to be told that she was probably the first person Oksana had attempted to be equal to in a very long time. Possibly ever. She put down her only weapon simply because Eve glanced at it.  

__

Eve asked without asking and Oksana listened and obeyed without question.  

__

She rolls her eyes at herself as she thinks that she wouldn’t mind the same fate as Anna if she could just see Oksana one more time and know that she was okay.  But she can’t be okay. Because she’s dead. Because Eve stabbed her in the stomach and three days later the body of a woman greatly resembling Oksana had been found in an alley with a stab wound to the lower part of her abdomen. 

__

 

__

She shudders and wonders for the thousandth time if the woman wanted to die alone. She wonders if she should have stayed with her instead of going into the kitchen. She thinks about how she could have ripped off her sweater to apply pressure with. She could have at least been with Oksana as she passed. Though she can’t imagine that Oksana would have wanted her to have the pleasure of knowing she’d won. She’s sure that’s what Oksana would have thought at the time.  

__

Oksana probably died believing Eve was some kind of proud of herself. That she’d intended to stab her. Really, when she thinks about why it happened, the best Eve can come up with is that she was hurt. She was hurt that Oksana would put her through everything she was putting her through.  

__

Which was insane. She knows it is insane. They hadn’t kissed. They had no spoken agreement. There was no kind of commitment or promise of love.  

__

Was Oksana even capable of love? Or just obsession? Perhaps her love just presented itself in the form of obsession. 

__

Either way, all they really had together was a subtle promise of the possibility of time. Time to figure out why Eve couldn’t stop thinking about her and time to figure out why Oksana seemed so willing to trust Eve when she had no evidence to suggest that she should.

__

They’d had time to discover each other and be something. Eve wasn’t sure what they could’ve been, but she likes to think that Oksana would have been good to her in ways she never would have expected. Maybe she would have been the type to wake her with kisses instead of breakfast. Maybe she could have been the one to make Eve truly feel safe.  

__

Eve spends a few moments trying to recall the look on the younger woman’s face the first time they met. There was something there, right? Something like... recognition almost?  

__

Most days she tells herself that it was just because of her hair. She knows that Oksana had a thing for hair like hers. But today? Today she lets herself imagine that it was something more cosmic. Something fated. She imagines that God is real and that Dom was late because she needed to be at the hospital at that very moment. Not to save anyone as she had intended, but to meet Oksana. To be given that moment. 

__

Eve is surprised when she doesn’t feel her eyes begin to glisten. She must be more tired than she thought. All she’s done is think about Oksana lately.  All she’s done is cry and regret and smell iron in her sleep.  

__

Without Villanelle to chase, she thinks about other cities less. She no longer wonders where anyone is unless they’re in London.  She doesn’t think about Berlin, Moscow, or even Paris beyond the apartment building that Oksana had lived in as Julie. 

__

Her world feels smaller every morning. She’s decided that the continent must be shrinking without Oksana there to make it more interesting.  

__

She sets herself up for a long day of remembering on the couch. The lights are off, the television is on mute, and she has a picture of Oksana staring back at her from her laptop. 

__

She often hears Oksana speaking to her. It’s muffled in a way that tells her she’s forgotten what her voice really sounds like, and she feels like she’s robbed herself of possibility all over again.  

__

She deserves it, she supposes. She deserves to never be able to forget the sound of Oksana carefully setting the gun on the floor next to her bed. She deserves to have it play in her mind on a constant loop the way that it does. 

__

She deserves to not be able to recall Oksana’s voice.  

__

What she doesn’t deserve is any form of orchestrated comfort. If she could accurately recall Oksana’s voice, she would use it to tell herself “It’s okay. I understand. I killed your friend _”_ when she was feeling like being justified. Or maybe the voice would say “It’s okay, baby. I miss you too.” 

__

Either way, Eve hears the soft clatter of the gun on the hardwood everywhere she goes. It’s a background noise she can’t get rid of. She doesn’t know if it’s her mind trying to comfort her or torture her but she finds that it’s effective at both. She doesn’t want to forget that sound because it’s the only one that her mind can’t seem to alter. It’s the only sound that’s purely Oksana that she can keep hold of.  

__

The sound of concession. 

__


	2. Just This One Thing

It takes more to fully accept that Oksana is dead than Eve is willing to admit. It takes months of crying and screaming and not understanding why she feels so strongly for someone she should feel nothing but contempt for.  

Thin line between love and hate, right? Or no line in Eve’s case.   

It also takes paperwork. It takes signing divorce papers and everything that comes along with severing ties she thought would bind her until she died.  

She found out the day after telling Niko that she wanted a divorce that he had already begun the process with their lawyer a week before she went to Moscow.  

She wants to feel angry that he pretended to still exist within their relationship. She wants to feel wronged and slighted and upset but she mostly just feels relieved that he’d taken it upon himself to see that it was done. Eve knows that it would’ve taken her months to get around to it.  

The process is quicker than she expected. There is almost no arguing between them aside from who would get custody of the chickens and that’s only because neither one of them wants the damned things.  

* * *

 

_“Niko! They’re your fucking chickens. I can barely take care of myself, let alone livestock!”_  

_“Honestly, darling? They fucking shit everywhere. I don't want them either.”_  

_“Yeah, well the only way I’m taking those evil shit-slinging fuckers is if I keep the house.” She shakes her head and looks at the lawyer pleadingly. She’s joking mostly. Joking because she knows that Niko will never agree to it._  

_“Done.” He looks pleased in a sleepy sort of way._  

_She turns so quickly that she nearly pulls a muscle in her neck. “Wait. What?”_  

_“Done. You keep the house and the shit-slinging chickens.”_  

_“You’re serious?”_  

_“On one condition...”_  

_She laughs, “Here it is. Out with it.”_  

_“I keep the furniture. The house gets stripped bare and I take everything that isn’t personally yours.”_  

_“What would you even do with everything?”_  

_“Well, I can sell everything I don’t need when I find a place. It also forces you to do something about it. You’ll be forced to shop for furniture and appliances. Knowing that you’ll be dealing with that shit instead of me is... entirely priceless.”_  

* * *

 

So, she keeps the house. She tells Niko it’s because it’s easier.  

She actually keeps the house because, while Oksana may be dead, Eve’s longing for her is not and it’s nice to sit next to her ghost when she can. She promptly develops a habit of taking hot baths that turn into cold naps as she replays the events of the night the assassin broke into her home.   

Eve has almost no concept of time anymore. Between her boring desk job and the fact that she barely turns the lights on at home, it’s hard to maintain any sort of sleep schedule.  

On a particularly windy night she finds herself curious as to what a breeze might feel like when standing on the edge of a bridge.  

The wind whips harder than she expected and her grip feels dangerously loose. She knows that she shouldn’t be standing here. She knows it’s wrong and selfish and yet, she imagines letting go all the same. She thinks about Niko and she thinks about Bill and how they both became victims of her infatuation with an assassin. She can’t bring herself to blame her failed marriage on Oksana and she knows that she watched her stab Bill, but the blood feels like her own responsibility.  

She thinks of all the things that might have been with Oksana. She thinks of dinners and movie nights and apologies. She wonders how she would apologize to Oksana if she could. Would Oksana apologize to her?  

She thinks that they would be on equal ground either way. If Oksana received an apology, she would give one. She decides that would be fair and she knows that Oksana would forgive her, but she also knows she can’t forgive herself either way.  

She’s just so tired of being alive, she realizes. The knowledge isn’t very surprising., but it fills her with a consuming exhaustion. How long will she have to miss her? How long will this have to hurt?  

Only moments if she jumps. 

She stares at the rushing water beneath her and imagines that the water is rushing through every cell in her body. She feels a need to be cleansed from all the shit she’s been dragging along: Bill’s death, her failed marriage, stabbing Oksana, missing Oksana, fucking up her job with MI6, not keeping in touch with anyone ever. 

A soft cough and the sound of her name brings her back to reality. 

She feels a strong hand grasp her arm and almost falls when she jerks it back reflexively. 

“Kenny?” 

They stare at each other until Kenny is uncomfortable enough to speak, “I saw you...on the...the um...” He motions to nothing and shuts his mouth tightly. “What should I do? I’m not... sure. I wasn’t... I didn’t know why you were here. We just... We’ve still been tracking you just in case and I thought maybe your car broke down or something. Or you were stuck and...” He looks at her pleadingly with tears in his eyes and she feels the gravity of the moment grip her by the throat. 

She was about to jump and Kenny just showed up out of nowhere. She wraps her arms around him desperately and leans into him. “Thank you, Kenny. Thank you.” 

After a long silence, Kenny finally springs into action. “I have to take you somewhere or-or someone can stay with you, but I don’t think that you should be alone right now.” 

Eve sighs when she realizes he means Elena. “Okay."

* * *

The door is nearly ripped off the hinges as they approach Elena’s apartment. Elena doesn’t speak or ask if she’s okay but her wet red-rimmed eyes tell Eve that Kenny must have called her while she was in the bathroom. Which Eve is grateful for because she isn’t okay but if she were asked she would lie.

She never quite figured out how to be that honest and  _I’m fine_  would just be such a stupid fucking thing to say on a night like this. Because Eve is not okay at all. Not even close enough to be good at pretending. 

She sits in a chair in the living room and listens to Elena reassure Kenny that he’s fine going home. That she’s got it from here.  

She can feel the urge to just crawl into bed seep into her bones and she knows that if she were home, she would be drinking herself to sleep right about now. But she isn’t home and Elena is walking towards her. 

Eve wishes she knew why she was crying right now but her reasons for hurting have been so over-analyzed they’ve begun to lose their meaning.  

Elena pulls her up and onto the couch and she holds her for a while until she calms down. Eventually, Eve is able to gather herself enough to take her coat off and get comfortable and that’s when the questions start. 

“What’s going on, Babe?”  

When Eve looks at a loss for words, she continues, “Is this about Niko?” 

Eve laughs despondently. “No, definitely not. Not mostly anyways.” 

Elena looks at her expectantly. “You know you can talk to me, Eve. We’ve been friends for nearly a decade. I’ve watched you sing Disney songs completely pissed. No need to get shy now.” 

“I don’t really know how to even voice this. It’s too complicated and...too crazy.” 

“Try me.” 

Eve starts and stops a dozen times before Elena gives her some parameters to work with. 

“Give me... a list of three. Three things that took you to that bridge or that you thought about while you were standing there.” 

“Okay....Um. One, I feel so guilty about Bill. Two, I’m just so fucking tired. I don’t mean physically. It’s like my soul is just exhausted. My body and just my entire being hurts.” Eve makes a subtle show of feeling conflicted so that Elena knows she doesn’t want to give a third answer. 

Elena prods her patiently, “You’re stalling, Eve. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“I feel guilty for Oksana. I feel guilty in ways that I don’t really understand. In ways that hurt me every single waking moment.” 

“Oh, Babe. That’s all pretty normal. I mean, Bill wasn’t really your fault. I know you know that. And Villanelle? Well, you killed someone. I’d be more worried if you didn’t feel guilty, ya know? That can’t be easy to cope with.” 

Eve shakes her head vehemently. “No. No. That’s the problem. It’s not that I killed someone. It’s that I killed...” she chokes on the next word, “her.” Eve covers her mouth to stifle a sob. “I feel like I betrayed her.” 

Eve doesn’t bother to look at the expression of shock she knows Elena is wearing.  “I know this sounds crazy. Believe me, I know. I’ve been sitting with this shit for weeks and weeks.” 

Elena pulls her closer and gives her another tight hug. “It’s not exactly not crazy, but I suppose that I did see this coming. You were very... I don’t know how to put it. You...romanticized? Yeah. You romanticized her a lot. At first I thought it was just because she was an assassin and this was your first MI6 gig and you’ve always been pretty passionate about your work, but it didn’t take long to realize it was more of a Villanelle specific thing.” 

Eve sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at herself. “What gave it away?” 

“I was watching you when you got out of the car that day in Blecham. She acted like she was going to shoot herself and you sounded completely distraught. I don’t know that most people would have reacted that way. Then, the way you talked about her after that. I don’t know. It just didn’t feel like you were keeping enough distance, I guess.” 

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Eve considers her upcoming meeting with Carolyn. “Do you think anyone else caught on?” 

“I’ve no clue. Never brought it up.” Elena paused with a thoughtful look. “Carolyn must know though, right? I mean, she’s a bloody legend. She’s basically made her entire career off knowing things that people don’t want other people to know.” 

Eve’s stomach turned and she laughed uncomfortably. “Can we just not think about this right now? I would like to pretend that I might eventually get my job back.” 

Elena shot her an apologetic smile. “Right. Right. So. What can we do?” 

Eve shifted to lean her back against the other end of the couch. “What do you mean?” 

“About you. About this. We have to do something Eve. I can’t just let you go home without having done something. I’m pretty sure that I should have you committed. Legally speaking, of course.” 

“I just need some sleep, Elena. I promise I’ll be fine.” 

“No, you won’t be. You won’t be okay unless something changes so, we need to make a change. What’s something that would make you feel better? We could go shopping or something at least? We need to get you out of your head for a bit.” 

“That’s actually impossible, Elena. You know how I am. I’m roaming around my own dark neighborhoods as soon as I take my first sip of coffee.” 

Elena makes a sound of agreement. “There has to be something though, Babe. Something that could make your days a little more enjoyable.” 

Eve absently watches her friend stand up and drift towards the kitchen. She’s not even half listening to the woman go on about all the things that might take her mind off of things. Eve’s eves are on the kitchen table. It’s covered with paperwork, a laptop, and a few books that Eve cannot see the titles of.  

She thinks about how much she hates working at her coffee table and how hard she begged Niko to  _please_ just let her keep the kitchen table.  

_Please, Niko. Just this one thing._   

Eve knows exactly what would make her feel better. 

“The dining room table.”  

Elena looks back at it as she returns to the couch. “I’m kind of using that...” 

Eve laughs for a moment before rushing to get her coat and shoes back on. “No. My dining room table. Niko took it in the divorce and I want it back.” 

“You’re joking.” Eve’s expression assured her that she was not. “Why do you want the table so bad? Just get another one. We can go tomorrow and they can deliver it and everything.” 

“No. It has to be this table. This table is important.” 

“Why is-” Elena trails off and sighs, “shepherd’s pie?” 

Eve’s nods, “shepherd’s pie.” 

* * *

Barely a half hour later, Elena is knocking on Niko’s door because Eve was pretty sure he wouldn’t answer for her.  

“Elena, what’s-- is Eve okay?” He wraps his favorite robe tighter around himself. 

“Yes, she--” 

“Niko, hi.” Eve steps onto the small porch. 

“Eve. What are you doing here?” 

“So, I know that this is... well, shitty of me. But I was wondering if I could convince you to part with the dining room table?”  

“No.” 

“No?” Elena parroted. 

“No, Eve.” He said it so pointedly that the use of her name was redundant. They could see his rage building. “We had an agreement. We signed a contract. You can’t do this.” 

“I know. I know. I just really would love to have that table back.” 

He threw his hands into the air, “Why?!” 

“I--” 

“Don’t lie. If I think you’re lying, I’m definitely not helping you get it back.” 

“That’s-- Wait. Help me get it back? Where is it? I begged you for that fucking table, Niko! Did you sell it?” 

“I didn’t have room for it.” 

“Then you should have told me! I begged and begged for you to let me keep that damned thing. Where is it? Who has it?” 

“Why do you want it?” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation because you no longer own the table. How about you tell me who you sold it to and I’ll help myself get it back.” 

Elena coughed quietly and Eve gave her an exasperated look. 

“Elena will help me get it back. Thank you, Elena.” 

Niko stood up a little straighter. “What’s in it for me?” 

“Nothing, really. Just the person you were married to for a decade getting back something that’s important to her.” 

He rolled his eyes and spoke quietly before slamming the door, “Three doors down on the left.” 

* * *

“Eve, I really think I should do the knocking. I’m a bit more personable.” 

“I’m just going to offer them some money. How can I possibly be unable to convince someone to take money for something?” 

“You could manage.” 

“Oh, whatever.” 

They rolled their eyes simultaneously. 

Elena knocked.  

A rather short, older woman answered the door. Her hair was wispy and shoulder length and her face seemed to be sorted into a permanent scowl. “What?” 

“Um--Uh” Elena stammered. 

“Hello, Ma’am. Excuse us, but. Well. I was wondering if... Well, my--” 

“Knock again when you figure out how to speak, dear.” She slammed the door in their faces. 

Elena laughed confusedly. “What the fuck? Why is she so intimidating?”  

“I was not intimidated! You just threw me off. Old age is naturally terrifying to anyone under the age of 40 probably.“ Eve knocks this time and they wait two full minutes for the door to open again.  

When it finally did swing open, Eve was ready.  

“My asshole ex-husband sold you the dining room table that he got in the divorce. It is extremely important to me and I begged and begged him to let me keep it but I think he just sold it to you out of spite. I was wondering if I could buy it back?” 

 

The woman laughed and Eve instantly felt at ease. “Come on in, girls.” 

* * *

 

After talking at length about how her ex-husband was  _a right prick as well_ , Beatrice tells them that Niko had actually given it to her for free.  She was walking home from the shop when she saw Niko and his brother trying to get the table into the back of a truck and after commenting on how lovely it was, Niko offered it to her for free and immediately delivered it and the chairs to her house.  

She also speaks for quite a while about how she’d already had a dining room table, but figured she had room for it.

She also claims she had a feeling someone might need it soon. She says that bit with a twinkle in her eyes and finishes with, “Always trust your gut girls. It knows what’s coming.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will build slowly before any scenes involving Villanelle start to show up, but I don't imagine it will be more than another 2 or 3 chapters. I'll be doing my best to update regularly.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it so far. Please review, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Please review, thank you!


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